Not Like This
by Teeter-Tottered
Summary: They had kissed before. A year and a bit together. They had kissed. But not like this. There was an urgency in his mouth, a hunger in his eyes and touch. A pleading for her to give him something to feel and keep and treasure and never forget. Commander Fox x OC


Star Wars and The Clone Wars are property of George Lucas and Disney.

I'm just borrowing Fox for romantic purposes ;)

This is definitely rated M.

~Not Like This~

...

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She was doing dishes when he came in. The clink of swirled pans in the sink, nudging stray hair from her eyes with her shoulder and hot water running through her fingers when he had slipped up to her, soft and light like the moon playing on the curtains, silent and swift. When he looped arms around her waist from behind it had caused her to start and splash and the soapy water had spilled down her front and it bubbled in large drops that spattered their feet and slicked the floor.

He had chuckled at that, soft and low, and his hands slipped to her hips and his fingertips snagged her skirt as she turned. Allowing the movement but not breaking contact. She could feel the heat of his hands on her through the fabric and she swiveled with a curling mouth, expecting teasing and mischief to his face. The usual wiggling brows and trademark smirk.

But when her gaze had met his it wasn't what she expected. Wasn't what she knew.

And she had seen it then.

Seen his eyes and knew that he needed something more that night. More than the usual laughing eyes and light smiles and playful embrace. She could see that he needed something deeper- she could feel it. Sudden and new and overwhelming. Something more grounding and solid, a reminder, or perhaps a reassurance. A promise. Something to hold onto against that which seemed so desperately close to pulling him away. She regarded him curiously as he looked down at her, and as he pulled her close and they kissed.

They had kissed before. A year and a bit together...they had kissed.

But not like this.

There was an urgency in his mouth and a hunger in his eyes and touch, a pleading for her to give him something to feel and keep and treasure and never forget. An experience feared missed or never found if not taken that moment, that night, then.

He had never looked or felt this way to her before, and she let her eyes fall on him, to search and trace and linger there with concern. Beneath the surface smile were dark circles to his eyes. A sign of missed sleep or prolongued worry. There was a draw to his mouth that wasn't the smirk or cheekiness of norm, and his fingers were on her arms like a child's on the chains of a swing. Anticipating, eager, afraid to let go. Locked in a mesh of worry, love, and fear. Catching and excited yet scared the worst would inevitably follow. What was he afraid of?

There was something in his eyes she couldn't quite decipher. An apology, perhaps? Or a plea for forgiveness chasing regret...as though he anticipated a judgement of some kind from her for some grave mistake on his part. It confused her and she couldn't fathom the reasoning behind it, but she could see it there within his eyes, live skittering shadows. Was it that night?

The firefight. Two nights ago, although it felt both longer and not long enough. Dark moments and desperation and true fear and near-loss. But also triumph and relief. He had been there then. Had saved her. And he was here now, and so was she, though he looked like thought she might vanish with a blink or too loud a breath and he clung to her tightly.

In the bedroom he sat at the edge of the bed and removed his armor slowly, each piece pulling from his suit and leaving his fingers with a mixture of desperation and reluctance, his eyes flicking between her and the floor in a manner that left her baffled.

He had done this before- removed his armor to let her hands slide over him. So many times, here and at the shop, many times, many nights. But not like this. She could feel it now, in the way he pried the pieces of armor from his body. That it wasn't the way he needed her hands on him now. She stole glances at him as she turned down the lights, lit a few candles and sat down softly on the bed beside him, knees touching. She met his eyes and sought the rakish look he normally had while doing as he did then, these movements and the eyes that always had her grinning in return.

But, beyond the faint smile that barely touched his lips and didn't meet his eyes, she found none of the usual mischief. He continued with the mechanical removal of his armor, so strangely void of the beloved and animated, playful familiarity. Gauntlets. Gloves. Boots and shin guards. Holsters. Kama. The sound of plastoid puling from the fabric of his undersuit followed by the clack of plates being stacked on the floor. His eyes flicked to her again with that foreign look: asking, reassuring. He could see she was aware of what he wanted. Of what he needed. And his eyes had been seeking confirmation. Was it ok?

They were dark and deep with it: the hoping, wanting, needing, asking. And she tried to answer it with her own, still as puzzled. Wide and worried, wordless but sincere. Of course.

Anything.

Didn't he know that?

She scooted and knelt behind him, helping remove his back plate when he reached it, unlatching the clasps and distangling it from his undersuit. He lowered it to the floor atop the stack of the others and the moment he was free of it all she pulled him to her, his back to her front and she kissed the back of his neck. Breathed him in and let his scent meet her nose as she gave him breath and kiss in return. Her hands immediately sought and found his shoulders, and her thumbs instictively fell to making the small circles out of habit. The feeling was comfort to her as much as it was for him normally, and it was especially so right then.

This she knew and loved, and it made her feel safe in the light of his foreign eyes and the heavy feeling that hovered. This at least was familiar territory.

She smoothed the tension between his shoulders as she had done so many times, kneading his neck and pressing down his back with her palms along a path so often taken it was heart-known to her fingertips.

Like usual, he tensed at first, pulling in a light breath at the touch, then slowly relaxing into her hands. Once again losing himself in the solace of her palms and the moment. As his head fell back and came to rest on her his eyes closed and his hair brushed her forehead. She lay her cheek against the top of his head with a small smile and kissed his neck again. Trailed upwards softly from where it met his shoulders with her lips until she reached his hair. That same hair, cleanly cut and dark contrast to her fingers, even to the tan of his skin.

He let out a long breath then, and straightened, reaching behind and catching hold of her wrists with steady, deft hands. He pulled her arms around to his front from behind and clasped her fingers in his own, pressing fingers clumsily into her palms , a sweet mimicry, thumbs smoothing over the back of her hands. He looked down at them as he did so, watching and feeling and pressing and breathing with her, and she wasn't sure if he looked more lost, or found, at that moment.

After a minute he gave a playful tug and she collided with his back gracelessly, her legs falling aroun his waist and her face pressed deeply into the fabric of his shirt.

He laughed, a true laugh, sudden and light, at the oomph! she made, and pulled her tighter against him so her arms were wrapping his sides along with her legs and they remained like that for a while. He seemed to savor it, the match of their bodies and the warmth of the press and he gave her a flash of his usual sly look over his shoulder.

Afterwards he brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them softly. Slowly, focused and dedication, first individually, then together. And for a few minutes that was all she knew and felt- the soft press of his lips to her fingers, and then to her palms. Again and again, her palms to the warmth of his breath, the touch of his mouth.

As he did it she turned her head to put a cheek to his back. Closed her eyes and listened to take his heartbeat to her ears like a lullaby. The beloved beat was steady and strong, his mouth was whispers on her skin and the heat of his back was fire to her chest. The contact was both soothing and awakening.

Familiar tease and comfort.

And he must have felt it too because he became deeply distracted with it, her hands slipping from his grasp as he leaned back into her, focusing on the feel of her body against his. They had sat like this before. Slept like this. Completely satisfied in the warmth and touch of that embrace. Many nights.

But the way he held her hands in his, clasped so tightly to his chest, linked and blazing and desperate, she knew it wasn't enough right then. Tonight he needed more. It seeped from him like a warm shadow from his back and fingers. More heat and touch and fingers and heartbeats. Something he hadn't yet shared and she hadn't before given. More of her.

All of her.

And maybe she needed it too. A deep urge had risen within her then, at his touch, his warmth and his eyes. She wondered if she felt like he did to her. Both familiar and strange, anchor and tempest.

Her forehead lingered on his shoulder and when he released her hands she wrapped her arms around his front and pulled him close, fanning fingers over his chest. She pressed her hands against him, running them over his undersuit, tracing him through it with her fingertips, neck to waist, down his sides, her thumbs kneading his lower back, continuing as he tensed, then relaxed into the touch.

When she slipped her hands beneath his shirt his skin was hot to hers and he gave a faint gasp at the contrast. It was always that way. It had been a very vocal and memorable observation of his when they had first touched, and had made many comments about the ice of her hands and she about the fire of his since. She chuckled and began tracing the beloved paths skin to skin, front and sides, shoulders to hips.

For long minutes she continued, eyes closing and leaning against him, lulled by the warmth he gave to her front. Her arms moved instictively and he was responding, rippling movement beneath her fingers, tensing, relaxing, melting and meeting. His breath grew and came quick after a while, and she could feel it in his back and hear it softly from his lips. His heart was dancing beneath her touch, his blood a singing beat.

They had done this before. A few times. But no farther. He had always stopped her here, at this point, catching her arms suddenly and kissing them and then her forehead briefly, before pulling away. Quick-breathed and redressing in his armor with haste.

For a second she hesitated, wondering if he'd do that now.

She let out a breath and kissed his neck again, hands paused on his hips, hoping he'd stay. She really wanted him to. No, needed him to, she realized abruptly, at that moment when her lips met his neck, and she smiled at herself. When had that changed?

When she continued her touch lower a shiver went through him and he swallowed, his head falling back to rest against hers. But, to her surprise, he didn't attempt to pull away then.

He did open his mouth to tell her something, though. A confession or explanation or perhaps a question. Possibly a whisper of love. But she had pulled him back and down until his head rested in her lap and she placed her lips to his and kissed him, smiling, quiet, the words lost in her mouth. Received but not heard.

They didn't need to be.

Not right now.

With that look, and those eyes and the sudden need within her, she had wanted to pull him away from thoughts. Anything that might give him reason to leave or miss what he needed from her. She wanted him to have and feel and remember her. This. To receive what he sought, and to share what she now needed to give.

She pressed on, exploring him slowly, and he remained silent as she did so, although he drew a sharp breath when her fingertips at last found him in places they never had before. She let her hands roam his heartbeat where bodies were meant to meet and be fitted together and shared sweetly in this endeavor. And she smiled a lover's smile. Affection and pride and the knowledge that he had finally accepted her touch in this way without flinching or pulling away, and that he was responding.

She slid her hands over him the length of his thighs and back to where they met, slowly, firmly, lightly, kissed his belly and repeated it all, until he moaned softly, almost inaudible and tangled with his breath. It was a new sound to her ears, the mixed pleasure and breathing and she bit her lip, closed her eyes and hoped he'd wouldn't stop her. Hoped he'd stay.

He did. And rather than pulling away, he continued to meet her touch until he was trembling beneath her fingers, and hitched breaths and growing desperate with it, and he finally groaned and snagged her arms away, rolled over and rose to his knees.

He shot her a flustered expression and she giggled, unashamed and undeterred. He shook his head in response, though his lips twitched, and he watched her, sat unmoving for a moment before leaning forward to place gloved fingertips to her chin, and firmly kissed her.

And then he did pull away. But only slightly, to fall back to kneeling on the bed across from her and he gave her another look. It was the same look beneath the knitted brows. Desperation. Uncertainty. Fear. Desire.

Love.

All of those things but love was in the forefront. And it was her reflection captured and held in his eyes when they shone with that light. She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and his eyes fell closed at the contact of her lips to him again, and he breathed. Let out a long breath as a grin finally found his mouth.

And then his fingertips were on her. Repaying her touch and kisses with his own. He lowered the sleeve of her blouse to place lips to her bare shoulder and then her neck and chin and hair, his breaths hot and quick in her ear. His fingers strummed her hair before they moved down her arms and across her belly. Touches and kisses like wind and feathers. He ran hands over her as she had done to him, then pressed her with a mischievous glancd to lie back flat on the bed.

He kissed her bare feet, softly across the bottoms then tops of them and slowly, frustratingly slowly, up her legs to where she had teased him. He kissed deeply where she had touched deeply.

She laughed and muffled it quickly, but not not quick enough. He'd caught on and a genuine smirk crossed his lips as he realized he'd found somewhere new she was ticklish. The return of that unhindered humor to his eyes was like a warm bath of relief, sunlight on skin and she smiled back. Humor and heat and play and love and by then they were both candle kissed and rosy cheeked.

She reached her arms out to him and they tangled themselves in one another, eyes closed and lips meeting. Heartbeats and skin heat, undone sheets and sweat shine to faces.

When they had finally undressed it had been at the hands of each other, attention and tenderness and desire and when their bodies had met it had been a meeting of promise and memory and muffled laughs. Breaths and touch and candlelight and sheets and kisses. And he had been warm and lost and need and light and love against her and within her.

Afterwards he lay beside her, legs still tangled, hearts touching and bodies still singing, running a thumb over her lips as he looked at her. It had been a different look then, one with more unspoken words. But now they were ones that made them both smile, and conveyed that what had been sought had been found, what was needed had been met, and it wouldn't be forgotten. And left much to look forward to.

...

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She stood at the sink again, thin fingers swiveling the faucet, other hand tucking the kettle beneath and the sound of the water spinning within metal filled the small kitchen. Her hair fell across her face as she leaned over, hiding her eyes but touching just above the smile on her lips.

Fox cracked an egg into the pan, then another, watching her out of the corner of his eye until the hiss of the pan drew his attention away. She stepped up to the stove beside him for a moment, twisting the dial for the heat of her ring and placing the kettle upon it, and then moved away. He listened as she pulled the plates and mugs from the shelf behind and stacked them to carry to the table. They weren't touching but he could still feel her moving around behind him.

And as she had been before.

Warm fingers, soft hair, breath on his chest.

He heard the clink of the dishes set to the table, the scooting of chairs and laying of silverware, scooping of tea to the simple silver pot. Normal, everyday sounds. He loved them. The guise of normalcy they gave him. Like the kitchen he stood in, the pan handle he held, and the woman setting the table behind him. It was she who had given him it. This. The feeling that he had been made to dismiss or never truly seek since birth.

Tonight she had given him even more.

That was a loaded train of thought and he sought immediate distraction from it as he felt a heat rise in his cheeks that didn't come from the pan.

He scanned the small apartment and his eyes fell on the closed door of the second bedroom, and then without much effort, his thoughts settled quickly on the sleeping child within. Another gift of normalcy he somehow ended up with. He had been a bit put out when he had stepped into the apartment and realized she was already asleep. The absence of her cute and constant voice had been immediately telling.

Although, what had overcome him so suddenly upon seeing and touching Aiya...It ended up being a good thing...He shook his head. Glanced back at the door.

He remebered that Fayna was almost always hungry, much like he and his brothers. He plucked another egg from the carton and rolled it in his fingers.

"Are you sure she won't wake?"

Aiya snorted from the dining room. "Positive. Once she's out, shes out. I kid you not, there was a speeder crash right outside her window a few months before we met. She slept right through it."

Fox chuckled and returned the egg in his hand.

"She'd love if you made some for her in the morning, though." Aiya offered, sensing the longing to see the child from his words. "Someone has her convinced theirs are the best."

"It didn't take much convincing."

"So humble." He could hear the grin in her voice, looked at her over his shoulder and saw that she was watching him from where she sat at the table, folding a napkin out of habit. Her face grew serious suddenly. "Are you staying?"

He didn't ever want to leave. He nodded and she smiled a little, rose to fetch the kettle as it squeaked. He saw how happy that simple nod had made her and then found himself deeply embarassed.

What if she thought he'd just come for... that?

What had just happened... It definitely hadn't been on his mind when he came. Hadn't even crossed it as he walked there from the complex, through the crowds and neon and the dark-string alleys. He had just seen her then, standing at the sink and looking so small and everything had flooded back at the image.

The feelings he'd had since that night threatening to spill over. Failure. Fear. Near-loss. It was a dark chasm in his chest that had almost come to light. He hadn't been there when she needed him most. Had taken far too long to reach her. What if things had gone differently? What if he hadn't made it there when he had? Even Cody couldn't have held back that many.

And then he'd had to dash all over the next few days and he hadn't been able to spend more than a larty ride and a few stolen minutes in her presence since. He hadn't been there when it happened or even been able to offer solace after. That too, had fallen to Lex, and the others.

When he had stepped into the apartment and seen her and knew he could finally talk to her and hold her it had been overwhelming.

He had seen her and needed to remind himself that she was here, and safe, and would be. So strongly he had bit his tongue ad tasted blood at the sight of her, had swallowed behind the laugh and as his arms pulled her close. And when she had turned to face him the words had just...failed.

He transferred the eggs to the plates from the steaming pan and set it in the sink, ran a quick column of water across it to bead and cool the surface. He sat as she filled the teapot to steep, then took up place before her egg. She gave him a testing look, broke into it with a fork and lifted it to her lips. She made a grimace as she chewed and he watched with a raised eyebrow. She stuck her tongue out at him after she swallowed.

"Perfect."

He grinned and mouthed 'I know' and tucked into his own. He chewed thoughtfully, mind roaming. He only noticed her staring at him by the sound of her fork meeting the table and he blinked curiously as she laced fingers under her chin, head tilted.

"Confess?"

He froze at the words, tensed and dropped his gaze for a moment but relaxed somewhat when he looked back up and saw the mischievous smile. The one he had secretly recorded with his visor the night they had first met, and had replayed during lulls on his shifts or before he slept many times since.

Confess. The first time she had said that it had been when her fingers had first traced his back , soft tips to his bare skin for the first time. After months of him weaseling out of it some way or another due to the sheer embarrasment and overwhelming desire of having her do it. At that moment he would've told her anything she asked.

Fox frowned and put down his fork, ran his hands over one another as he glanced at her.

"Tonight I never- I mean it wasnt my intention that we..." The memories flooded his head and were so vivid he had to look back down at his plate. "I mean I wanted to, I've wanted..for a long time. But you've given me more than I could ask for ever," her eyes softened and there was something he couldn't quite place in them. Something between gladness and sadness, "and I meant to honor that." He fiddled with the tines of the fork "But tonight I just..."

"Needed more." She finished. He peered across the table at her and her mouth matched her eyes. "I know. I could see it. I could feel it." She returned to her egg with a small smile.

And with that it all fell away. Like it always did with her. She had a way of giving a look and a smile and making everything ok.

And her hands...

He resumed eating the egg.

"It's normal, Fox." He glanced up again, caught off guard and unsure of what she meant. "The way you felt...what we...did. That's normal. For couples, and friends. After a bad experience or a scare, or sadness. It's...how humans are made, I think." She grinned at the face he made as he processed that. "Not specifically sex, just... That closeness. Physical contact. It helps. it's healing. It's normal." She winked and continued eating as he stared at her, letting it sink in.

"Did it...help you?" he asked after a short while.

He remebered suddenly now. The look on her face when they'd finally been reunited that night. Although she had been unharmed physically, she hadn't walked away without damage. Even now if he squinted he could see a shadow of it in her eyes, the lines beneath. There was still a trace of the drawn cheeks. He recognized it in her then, the feeling of guilt that had been so strong within him. That she had eased and then dismissed from him so completely. He wanted to return that favor.

Her eyes found his and she nodded, gave a small ghost-smile, but she still pursed her lips at her plate, wrung her hands subconciously with that faraway look to her eyes.

"He's going to be fine, Aiya. And it wasn't your fault."

She looked at him in surprise. Perhaps she hadn't realized how open her own eyes were. She looked like she wanted to agree, like she tried, but then she shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, eyes on her plate. "Except it kind of was. If I hadnt called for help, if he and Lex hadn't come..."

Fox snorted and raised an eyebrow at her. "Aiya, you have that distress code for a reason. They came because they wanted to. Force, I could barely keep the others from running to you, restricted tape and street or not." He gave her a small smile, tempting one from her. "You know we just took that larty to look cool." The barest of a smile touched her lips and she snorted. It was something. He looked at her deeply, sincerely. '"It was Turns' choice to be there. Any of them would come for you, Aiya. And they all would've made the same one he made. By choice. And that wouldn't ever be something you're at fault for, or that they'd want you to feel that way about."

"I know." She conceded with a sigh, but also a small smile, sad but true. "I know..and it's both... wonderful and awful." She shook her head, closed her eyes and let out a breath, as she had done that first night. When she opened them she gave him a pout. "Your turn. Wonderful and awful."

It was a game they played. Sometimes they lay awake at night on the days it had been rough and he had looked troubled and she made him talk. Something wonderful and awful. There had to be balance to the bad, there always was, she claimed. She spoke and lived it. And somehow he had always managed to find something for her, for himself.

He lapsed into silence as she rose to pour the tea.

He watched her, loved the way she looked as she did this small, simple thing. Head to the side, hair faking across her face and neck exposed, eyelashes panning her cheeks as she watched the tea spill.

"Lex loves you."

She blinked, caught off guard by the seeming abrupt change of topic but she looked up with a bright smile briefly. "I love him too." She went back to the task of pouring.

She'd misunderstood. She wasn't aware, then.

He waited as she poured the milk and added sweetener to the cups, stirring before scooting one before him and taking the other for herself and sitting again.

"I mean he loves you..." he watched her as she spoke, gaging her reaction. He waved a hand, flicked fingers between them as he took a sip "like how I love you."

"What?" her nose crinkled in confusion as she peered at him over her own cup, then narrowed when he didnt elaborate. She tilted her head and looked thougtful. Disbelieving. "He told you this?" She asked.

Fox shook his head. Grinned into his cup. "Didn't have to."

She was still looking at him like he had two heads. "I never noticed."

"I know."

She looked like she was seeking confirmation within herself, eyes dancing back and forth, trying to find a situation the information mached. At last she shook her head, looked to Fox as she took another sip. "Well, he's never done or said anything that gave me the impression, and I dont think he would ever do anything...untoward."

Fox coughed in surprise. "Of course not." He shook his head, chuckled at the thought. "That's not what I was implying. I was just confessing that I know he has feelings for you," he met her gaze "and that I'm glad of them in a way."

Aiya blinked at him, appearing lost.

"Wonderful and awful. You asked," he reminded her. "Awful knowing that he feels that way about you, wonderful knowing that he does. I know if I couldn't be there, or anything happened to me, he'd be there and he'd never let anything happen to you."

"Fox..." She cut herself off and he couldnt tell if it was a warning to him or herself.

"Not just because he was this time, but because I know him. And...I'd want that" he continued, acknowledging the stricken look on her face with a sad but honest smile of his own.

A silence fell between them for a while, and they both resumed drinking their tea. Aiya was giving him occasional thoughtful looks. He cast a glance at Fayna's door.

"He's really good with Fay," he offered. Shrugged as she narowed her eyes at him.

"He is." She was still watching him, and then her mouth twitched with a quick private humor and she blinked at him, chin in hand. "They all are, actually." She agreed. Innocently. Ever so sweetly.

She'd always been quick to the uptake.

Fox grimaced involuntarily. The expression on his face was so terrible Aiya couldnt stop the laughter that spilled out, a relief to the tension. He shook his head and shot her a pleading look. "Please dont end up with one of those idiots."

Aiya snorted and took another sip, still giggling. She swept a hand in front of her. "Since we're covering this-anyone else on the list of no?"

He stared at her for a long time, chuckling a little himself, passing the cup back and forth between his hands. When he took a sip he looked into the depths of the tea , began to say 'no one'. That it was ultimately her choice, and that he acknowledged and respected that. Even if he didn't like it. Even if it was one of those lot.

But then he had an afterthought which gave him a good pause. He tried to keep the sincerity of it from his voice when he spoke, tried to make light of it. Which it was, in a way. Although it also sort of really wasn't.

"Rex." He muttered.

"Who's Rex?" Interested. She'd witnessed his inner debate.

A smile of sorts passed his lips. "An old friend. We were rivals in training for a long time." He shook his head. "He always did everything first. Everything better. Still does, likely. Everything...except this." He glanced at her, brow furrowing. "I know he hasn't done this." He took another sip.

"He hasn't had sex yet?"

Fox choked on the tea, coughed for a minute as she watched him with an amused grin, a goddess smiling at his folly.

"I meant..." His cheeks were on fire, and when he looked at her, and thought of what she referenced didn't help. Not in the slightest. "I meant a relationship. In general."

"Oh." Her eyes were on him over her cup, lips shining. "You know you're going to have to get comfortable discussing it."

"Discussing..."

"Sex, Commander."

"What...why would I-"

"Becasue Loreen is going to know first thing tomorrow, and she's going to drill you for details."

"You're going to tell her? I mean, right away?" He imagined that was normal, based on the stories between brothers. It took on a new light when he was the one who had taken part in it though. And Loreen would want to know the details? From him? She did like to discuss everything pretty openly. He had no idea what to say. How to put words to something that had been so indescribable. He looked to Aiya for direction.

Now it was her turn to giggle. "Won't need to."

He gave her a truly puzzled look.

"You admit it without realizing." He blinked in shock.

"What? How?"

She pointed at him beaming, "Your face. You have the same face Surge had after he and Loreen had their fun. You guys are both open books."

Fox blinked. "After Surge and Loreen...Wait, what? They...I wasn't aware." He lapsed into silence as she giggled and drank the last dregs of her tea. His eyes met hers, desperate.

"I dont want to admit that. Warn me, when I get that look. Promise."

"Code word? "

"What? "

"A word. Something I'm supposed to say to let you know when you do it. Code."

He thought about it.

"...Face, I guess. "

"Face, it is. " She grinned as she rose.

She gathered the dished to place them in the sink and he hoped up to help. Afterwards she stretched and gave a yawn. "Lets get to bed."

He nodded and followed, very eager to enter the dakrness and think. He had a lot to think about. They passed Fayna's door and Aiya hesitated, looked up at him over her shoulder.

"Want me to grab Fay?" She spun and poked a playful finger in his chest. " I know you're just as addicted tot he squishy cuddles as I am."

He grinned, it was true. The kid was cute. Her snores were much more endearing than Thorn's. And when they slept together it was an indescribable feeling, Belonging. A family.

But when his eyes fell on Aiya as he made to answer, saw her standing there in her pajamas, shining hair and eyes, lashes to her cheeks and hands on his chest he stopped.

And he saw her as she had looked earlier again, the way the light caught on her face and shoulders and hair, her lips. He imagined how she'd spend the night in bed beside him, her back to his and legs twined. Her heat to his beneath the covers and her fingers and breath to his. And knowing, just knowing, he'd pressed fingertips and lips to those places he'd only dreamed of for so long. He still remembered how she felt, her lips and hands and...A familiar heat rose in his belly.

He looked to her, wondering if it was ok to ask to sleep with her alone that night. And maybe again? Sometimes? He hoped. To hold her against him again as she slept, to...go further. He realized he really had no idea how often that kind of thing happened. He hoped it happened again. He glanced at her and blinked in surprise.

She was doubled up, shaking silently, arms wrapped around herself. When she caught his eye she pointed at him, a slim finger in the darkness.

"Face!" And she burst out laughing.

He shot her an indignant look. Crossed his arms and regarded her sternly for a minute before a sly grin touched his mouth. "You know, for someone as ticklish as you I wouldnt be laughing." She paused her laughing to look up at him in horror.

"You wouldn't."

He mouthed "I would' and snaked an arm out and she ran, still laughing into the bedroom.


End file.
